


New Buir

by disdainfreely



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, It's hard to be a single buir, post S1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disdainfreely/pseuds/disdainfreely
Summary: Din's gotten used to taking care of the kid when they're on the road.Now that they've stopped moving, though? He's starting to struggle.Good thing there are Tribe members with more experience.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 177





	New Buir

Din sighs and carefully bounces the crying child. This is their third pass down the main hallway of the Covert and the child hasn’t stopped sobbing those hiccuping cries that tear at Din’s heart. The child usually isn’t fussy, hasn’t been in the past, but something in their narrow escape from Gideon and his stormtroopers has shaken the tiny creature and the last weeks have been long nights for Din and the child both. Din hasn’t managed to get a full night of sleep since, not with the child waking up with nightmares.

They stayed in the Covert to rest and recover. So much for that. 

The Forge is finally quiet; even the Armorer seems to have gone to bed at this late hour. Din wants to go to sleep. He so desperately wants to sleep. But the child is crying and clinging to him and Din can’t do anything other than walk and rock him and hum.

It’s on their fourth pass of the Covert that a door opens and Paz emerges from his room.

“He’s still crying?” The larger man’s voice is still rumbling with sleep and Din feels immediately bad. 

“Apologies if we woke you. He should go to sleep soon.”

“I doubt it. You’ve been walking for long enough and he’s not getting any quieter.” Paz stretches with a groan. “Is he sick?”

“I don’t think so.” Din gently bounces the child and winces when his cries increase in pitch. “I don’t know how I could tell, though.” He tries to keep the frustration out of his voice. It’s not the child’s fault. He knows it’s not, but he’s so tired.

“Here. Let me take him.” Paz reaches out and scoops the crying child out of Din’s arms. The child’s crying quiets for a second as he reassesses his situation, but the change isn’t enough to stop the tears and the wails begin again. “You look like death warmed over, Din.” Paz settles into a gentle rocking rhythm that’s clearly as familiar to him as breathing. It’s sometimes hard to remember that Paz, for all his size, has helped raise a multitude of foundlings.

“He hasn’t let me sleep since we got here,” Din admits. 

“What’s wrong, ad’ika?” Paz asks. “Not letting your buir get any sleep?” He looks over at Din, who’s starting to list to the side. “I can watch him for a bit. Gar shuk meh kyrayc. Go lay down.”

“He’ll just cry more if I leave.”

Paz looks down at the crying child. “Is that true? Are you going to keep crying if your buir leaves?” He looks over at Din. “He will quiet down eventually, you know. I can take him.”

“Last night ‘eventually’ was after five hours,” Din says exhaustedly. Paz considers.

“Here. Let’s go into your room. I’ll sit with the kid. You can try to sleep.” 

Din wants to object, but he can’t. He’s too tired. He leads the way back into his own room and practically collapses on his bed. He can sleep on his bed in his helmet without issue at this point in his life, but the crying. The kid just sounds so miserable and scared, even with Paz settled into a chair right beside the bed and murmuring gentle words to him in Mando’a. Despite Din’s best efforts, he can’t fall asleep before the child successfully cries himself to sleep in Paz’s arms.

“Thanks for trying,” Din croaks when the crying finally tapers off.

Paz shakes his head. “He’s not the first foundling with nightmares. He won’t be the last.” He looks down at the child. “Get some sleep. I’ll hold onto him for the night.”

“He has a crib.” Din gestures in the vague direction of said crib, but Paz shakes his head. 

“I’ve got him to sleep here. I can sleep sitting up for one night. It won’t kill me.” He sighs and leans back in the chair slightly. “Go to sleep, Din. I’ll wake you if your ad’ika needs you.” 

Din considers objecting for a moment, but he’s exhausted, and Paz will take good care of the kid, and Din just wants sleep so badly. He’s asleep the moment he closes his eyes.

It’s later than usual when he finally opens his eyes again. He half-expects to hear crying again, but instead he hears Paz’s low voice and the higher giggles of the child. Din groggily lifts his head. Paz has relocated to the floor, where he’s playing with the child.

“You’re awake.” Paz tilts his head glance over at Din. “Your ad’ika is getting impatient.” 

Din sits up and is greeted with an excited trill from the child and two grasping little hands reaching up for him. He bends down and scoops the child into his lap.

“How long has he been up?”

“Not terribly long, don’t worry.” Paz stands and stretches. “He’s been quiet since he woke up.” 

Din holds the child close. “He’s been crying for multiple nights. I don’t know what to do.” It’s hard to admit, but it’s even harder to keep his guard up when he’s this tired.

“It’ll pass,” Paz assures him. “Nightmares aren’t unusual for foundlings, and he’s had a scare.”

Din sighs. “No, I remember when I was young.” 

When Haat Vizsla had brought his new son back to the Tribe, Din had been nearly silent. He’d stuck tight to his buir’s side whenever he had the option and otherwise mostly kept to himself. While the other children ran and played, Din kept to himself, watching everything with solemn eyes that were still seeing the horrors he’d been saved from. Haat had been good to him. He’d understood what he was working with, had seen enough foundlings before Din to know to give his new son space when he needed it and to be present when Din wanted to be close. Din had spent more nights than he’d care to admit sleeping in the same bed as his buir, soaking up the protective warmth of the arm draped over him and the voice tiredly whispering in Mando’a against his hair.

Haat had just known what to do for the child in his care, and Din can’t help but blame himself for not being able to do the same. Haat could make him feel safe in a universe gone mad. He had reassured Din that whatever had happened before, he was here now and Haat would take care of him. Din doesn’t know how to offer that to a child.

“No first-time buir knows how to do everything,” Paz says. Din looks up at him mutely. Has he said all of his fears out loud? “You’re not that hard to read, Din. And I know you haven’t been around the Tribe that often, but I’ve been here for more than one buir with a new foundling.” Paz reaches out to gently pet the child’s ears. “You’re doing fine.”

“He’s crying for literal hours every night. I’m doing something wrong.” Din looks down at the child, now happily cooing and apparently oblivious to his caretaker’s distress.

“You’re not.” Paz shakes his head. “Some foundlings have a harder time adjusting than others, and they all show it differently. You were always quiet, but some of the others taken in cried like this little one. Some fought with the other foundlings. They’re all different.”

“He didn’t do this before we came back to Nevarro,” Din says.

“Yeah, and from what I’ve heard, you almost died. Your Ugnaught friend did die, and so did his nurse droid. The little one was kidnapped by Imperial thugs. Are you really surprised he’s having nightmares?” Paz shakes his head. “He’ll settle down. He just needs time.” 

Din sighs. “I hope you’re right.” He can’t stifle a yawn, which the child echoes.

“Try to get some more sleep,” Paz says. “The little one seems tired enough to let it happen.” He stands, carefully pushing Din’s shoulders until he’s laying down. “See if you both can manage it.” 

Din blinks owlishly up at Paz from inside his helmet. “I’m supposed to be getting up to go help the Armorer with whatever she needs.”

“I can help her. Get some sleep. I’ll leave so you can take your helmet off.” Paz pats Din’s shoulder. “Sleep well.”

Din wants to object, again, but Paz’s voice has settled into that low register that he uses on the foundlings, the one he must have learned from his buir. That voice has the ability to put Din instantly at ease. He could fuss, but Paz pulls a blanket up over him and carefully tucks it so the sleepy child can still breathe, and Din is immediately on his way to sleep.

He hears Paz’s heavy footsteps move to the door. When door hisses closed, Din has just enough presence of mind to pull his helmet off and set it beside his pillow. His ad’ika is curled against his sternum, tiny clawed hands pressed between them. 

“It’ll be alright, ad’ika. I’ll take care of you. I promise,” Din mumbles sleepily. The child opens one large eye to look up at him. “You’re safe here.”

The child considers him for a long moment, just long enough that Din starts to wake up from the intensity of the stare, before he yawns and snuggles in again close.

“There you go,” Din manages a tired smile. “Good night, ad’ika.” He falls asleep to the soft cooing of the sleepy child.


End file.
